


Room Without a Door

by LizBee



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: AU, EarthAlliance Civil War, F/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken by EarthAlliance torture, John Sheridan has betrayed his friends.  Babylon 5 has fallen to EarthGov, its crew and allies scattered and hiding.  Now, on Proxima, matters are coming to a head, and Delenn has a desperate plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room Without a Door

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, readers. This is a work-in-progress. And I might as well say upfront that I am quite useless at regular updates; I can write every night for a month, and then refuse to touch my notebook for weeks. Really, I'm just posting this so that I'm not completely alone, but if you want to bookmark the fic and maybe come back at the end of the year, I would understand.
> 
> Warnings: I warned for explicit violence above; at this stage, it would be more accurate to say that I'm warning for long-term effects of torture, irresponsible consumption of alcohol, emotional trauma and blatantly shippy writing. Well, as blatant as I get, anyway.
> 
> Also, the title is liable to change as soon as I think of something that's (a) any good at all and (b) not nicked from an Ani diFranco song ("Shameless" if you're wondering), because it seems inappropriate to use Ani for hetfic.

"Johnny? This is Lizzie. They say you're coming to Proxima, and I'd -- well, it would be nice to see you. Call me. Please?"

*

"Hey, John, it's Lizzie. I left a message, but maybe you missed it. Um -- I heard you were here. I mean, it's all over the news, obviously. Please, call me, we've been so worried. I know -- look, just come around. We'll talk."

*

"The hotel confirmed you got the messages. Damn, John, what are you trying to prove? Is it politics? Dan heads up the local NightWatch chapter, you can't say we're not -- please, Johnny, I couldn't get to Dad's funeral. I need to see someone. Come around. We're family. Please?"

*

"Forget it. Never mind. You don't want a family, I get that now. Whatever they did -- anyway, I'm not waiting around any more If you want to talk, you know where I am."

"Delete message."

His sister's image flickered and vanished. Sheridan stared for a few seconds at the blank screen, anger penetrating the haze of alcoholic numbness he'd cultivated over the last few hours.

"Why don't you call her?"

Sheridan poured himself another drink. He couldn't call it clarity, this feeling; there was too much rage, but was also a sense of awareness, that he had once been a different, better man. A few more drinks and the awareness would become self-loathing, but that seemed a fair price to pay.

One moment of perfect beauty, Kosh had promised. Damn Vorlons. Liars, all of them.

"Why don't you call her?" Felix asked again.

Twenty years, Lorien had promised him. Barring accident, illness, or a government assassin in the night. As soon as his usefulness had come to an end. As soon as he showed signs of disobedience.

"Why--"

"Because I don't want to see her," Sheridan snapped. "I don't want to talk about our dad, or my wife, or her kids, or our mom. I don't want to see the NightWatch band on her husband's arm." Sheridan paused for breath. "And because I don't want her to see me like this."

Contempt, quickly concealed, flared in Felix's eyes, but he merely said, "NightWatch is an important organisation."

"I'm going out."

"Captain Sheridan--"

"Without you." He pulled his jacked on, distantly aware that this was courage born of whiskey, but not really caring.

"Captain, under the condition of your release, you are not to go out unescorted unless proper protocol is--"

Felix didn't see Sheridan's fist until it connected with his jaw. He was a slight man, and he went down at once.

Satisfied, Sheridan pulled the untraceable credit chit from Felix's wallet, leaving the cards. Felix stirred; Sheridan aimed a sharp, winding kick at his side, and left.

He figured he had a few minutes before the outer perimeter security realised what had happened. Time to lose himself in a crowd, and put some distance between himself and his guards. The first moon was setting. Sheridan walked towards the space dock, keeping to the shadows.

*

"And I'm telling you, Mr Doubray, I haven't seen my brother since he arrived on Proxima." Lizzie let some of her impatience creep into her voice. "He's ignored all my messages. What makes you think he'd want to see me?"

Felix Doubray looked bland, his expression slightly marred by the livid bruise beside his mouth.

"Guilt?" he said.

"Excuse me?"

"He holds himself responsible for your father's death. There are unresolved issues surrounding his wife's ... passing."

The door to the teacher's lounge opened, and for a moment the room filled with the raucous sound of children and teenagers. Lizzie fancied that it echoed the angry buzzing in her head.

In a low voice she said, "You leave Anna out of this."

"She was your friend, was she not?"

"And don't speak to me about our father. We know very well who's responsible for his death."

"Yes, the Mars Resistance. A tragedy."

"My brother's a grown man," said Lizzie, forcing a smile to her lips. "I'm sure he can take care of himself." She cut the link with a savage gesture and buried her face in her hands.

"Here." A steaming cup of tea was put down in front of her. "You shouldn't lose your temper."

Lizzie sipped the jasmine tea, letting the astringent taste wash away her anger.

"Men like Doubray may seem like small bullies, but they invariably have powerful friends. Of course," Jelena drank her own tea, her expression unreadable, "your husband runs the city's NightWatch chapter, does he not? You're not without allies." She hesitated. "I'm sorry. That was--"

They were interrupted by the noisy entrance of George Ishikawa, two sulky adolescent boys following in his wake.

"--Throwing bricks at flyers, I don't know if you wanted to be killed or arrested--"

Jelena gave Liz a fleeting half-smile, drained her tea and left.

When the delinquents had been dealt with, and the bell for class had gone, Liz fell into step beside George.

"Do you know Jelena Novak at all?" she asked.

"Teaches in the junior school? Tall, dark hair? I know her by sight; I don't think I've ever spoken to her." He considered. "I heard there was some kind of political problem back on Earth, but you might know more about that." His eyes slid to the NightWatch armband that Lizzie wore like a bandage.

"Yes," said Liz, more to herself than her colleague, "and we just had a conversation that probably broke half a dozen anti-sedition laws."

She turned the corner, aware that George had stopped in his tracks, knowing that he was watching her, suddenly fearful for a co-worker he barely knew.

*

Sheridan walked alone through the city. Head down, hands in his pockets. If anyone recognised him, at least they didn't try to speak to him.

It began to rain.

It rained a lot on Proxima, part of the artificial weather cycle created to alter the planetary ecology. He remembered how Lizzie complained about it, but lightly, because she knew the rain promised a future. Evidence of a caring government. Trust the state. And now she had ties to NightWatch, and she wanted to see him.

("Your father is dead," they had told him, upon his return to the cell. "We've selected the Mars Resistance as the culprit." But he'd known, as they injected their drugs into his system, who was truly to blame.")

Proxima was an old colony, its underbelly well-established. Down by the bay, where the water was too flat and dull to attract the wealthy, a network of bars, illegal casinos and brothels existed. Downbelow, he thought of it. Even now, it was almost untouched by NightWatch, and the ever-present security cameras were more often damaged than functional. There was a place near the water where he'd become accustomed to spending his rare hours of freedom. Felix had never found him here. It was safe. It was his.

He took his usual seat in the corner. Back against the wall, eyes on the door. He used to laugh at Michael's paranoia. He knew better, now.

He saw the newcomer before she spotted him: a tall, lean woman with dark hair and sharp features. She was out of uniform, but her bearing was unmistakably that of a soldier. She dismissed the attentions of a drunk, scanned the room and met Sheridan's eyes. A flicker of emotion crossed her face, but she merely turned to the bar, ordered a drink -- mineral water with lemon, he knew -- then approached his table, glass in hand.

Surveying the empty glasses before him she said, "Of all the men in the universe, you're the last I would've pictured turning into my father."

Sheridan said, "Fuck you, Elizabeth."

Lochley merely sipped her drink.

"I'm commanding the Minerva," she said. "Overseeing the blockade."

"Down for some sightseeing?"

"You need to find a new place to drink. I got a call from an informer, offering your location. It'll be all over the feeds soon."

"Pity. I really liked the ambience. Did my sister ask you to look out for me?"

"Your mother."

He had attended his father's funeral. Squinting in the sunlight, totally numb, sick with the awareness that the next day he would be taken to EarthDome to dance on a string for Clark. His mother had tried to take his hand, but the unexpected touch made him flinch--

"She's worried about you," Lochley continued. "A lot of people are."

"Are you?"

"Yes." Lochley reached out to take his hand, but he pulled away sharply, knocking over a glass. It smashed on the floor. For a second, the room was silent.

"I don't know if you're aware," said Lochley softly, "but the Minbari government is willing to offer you asylum. If you asked."

"So I can -- I can be their puppet? Delenn ... is that her offer?"

"Delenn's missing, John, no one's seen her since Babylon 5 fell. Scuttlebutt says she's in a facility on Mars."

"Good."

"I could be court-martialled for telling you about the Minbari offer."

"At least you're throwing your career away for something that really matters." He drained his glass and signalled for another. Near the door, a woman caught his eye, giving him a fleeting half-smile. Sometimes -- maybe it was a twisted kind of patriotism, or maybe some women were really turned on by the smell of stale whiskey -- sometimes he attracted that sort of attention. Usually he ignored it. Usually.

"People are worried about you, John. You think your only value is in this -- shabby propaganda? Is this going to be your life now?"

"And what," said Sheridan, "makes you think I have any god-damn choice about it?"

Lochley said nothing.

"I do my duty," he said, "same as you."

She rose to her feet, lingering for a moment. Always wanted the last word, that was her problem. Their problem. Competition didn't make for a good marriage. They knew that now.

"Take care," was all she offered. Sheridan raised his glass in an ironic toast, and watched her leave.

Lies and manipulation didn't make for a good marriage either. He remembered Anna, standing in his quarters saying, She didn't tell you? And Delenn, fleeing, her crime uncovered.

He tried to picture Delenn on Mars, in a cell, under the eyes of the same agency that had held him. But no: the Minbari would have laid waste to the solar system if they even suspected she was a prisoner, and anyway, she had been tried in absentia for crimes against Earth. They would have paraded her if they had her, and met the Minbari with all the force of Clark's war machine.

No, Delenn was on Minbar, making her plans, spreading her lies.

At least there she was safe, he thought, and instantly regretted it.

He suddenly wanted to speak to the woman by the door, to lose himself within another person, if only for a short time. But she was gone.

So he lingered for another drink, although somehow the bar had become more crowded since Elizabeth had arrived. The people were of a different type, and they were watching him.

It'll be all over the feeds soon...

He finished his drink in a single swallow and walked out, ignoring the curious newcomers. The damp, cold evening hit him like a physical force, and he walked a block before he realised that he had no idea where he was going to spend the night.

And he was being followed.

It was a young man behind him, heavy but not muscular.

"You Sheridan?" he asked.

"Yes."

"My brother died. Shot down by the Juno." There was a bottle in his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so what are you gonna do about it? I saw you on ISN. Talking about how the President's just got our best interests at heart. Well, fuck that -- and fuck you -- traitor--"

He lunged, bottle gleaming in the dim light, when another figure emerged from the shadows. One crippling blow to the man's knees, then a sharp kick to the head that rendered him unconscious.

It was the woman he'd seen earlier.

Sheridan almost applauded.

"Very nice," he said. "What are you, EarthForce security? Did Felix send you?"

"You have to come with me."

"I'm not going to pretend it's not the best offer I've had all night--"

"He had friends. I can't handle them all, and you're in no condition to fight. We need to leave this place."

He didn't move. He was frozen, rooted to the spot. Sick with memory.

"John." Her voice cracked with emotion. She reached for him, eyes wide, naked emotion on her face. Her human face, he thought. Liar. "I've come so far, John," she was saying, "waited so long--"

"Delenn," he said, in wonder, in amazement, in fury--

His hands closed around her throat.

 

to be continued


End file.
